The Zanarkand Chronicles: Impressions of a Dreamer
by Phuq
Summary: Part of the Prophecy. So, this it. It all ends here? But isn't this the begining? Where is reality? I want you to go there. I think you'll like it... SPOILERS!


Disclaimer: Um, I have no what I just wrote! Help!

I like experimenting with style. Let me know if it works.

I wrote this under the influence of _Serial Experiments Lain. _(Incomprehensible bizarre animes are FUGGIN' AWESOME!)

If you can't figure out what's going on, too bad. I'm being deliberately vague. :P I idiot proofed my story! So stupid peeple can't read it! And then they can't sue! Or impinge on my creative freedom!

Impressions of a Dreamer

"It all starts here, with her.

She will win this for us,

Though suffering is her lot.

Fate is a cruel mother."

-excerpt from _The Prophecy of Sunis_

Watch her now:

_saving the world._

_Come to me, Oh Sower of Chaos, Death, the Destroyer._

The little girl prays her heart out.

_Come and take him._

A bead of sweat turns to blood and traces a crimson path down her face. Red hair, red dress, red blood.

_Come Destroyer, he shall take thy pain._

A whimper escapes her mouth. The ghosts around her beam strength and stroke the folds of her strained mind.

_Hear me and come. Come into the dream. Come into the dream and take him._

Look at the man:

the one who will save us.

"This is it. There is no turning back now." The red-bandana man, so familiar to many, stares at the boy in front of him. "It's starting."

"Eh?"

The city crumples, then, turns white as the ancients dream the man into existence. The little girl grabs the man and throws him across the threshold to the one who answered her call.

He awakens:

in a foreign land.

For three months the little girl, the only one left in the dream, watches over him, using the ancient dreamers to communicate. She places him in the care of a summoner, her descendent, and he becomes Death. She awakens. He is beyond her touch, now.

Wishing rest:

she stirs in her sleep.

But her work is not finished yet. She calls upon the Chaos one more time to bring a dead man across the barrier. She fades, her energy spent.

Unaccepting of grave:

a warrior arrives.

A man in a red robe appears where his friend disappeared. He lifts his sword onto his shoulders, leaving the other hanging at his side. He turns to face the unmoving crowd.

When time starts again, he is long gone.

This is them:

_the living dead._

"Follow me." A boy in purple guides the dead man through the dead city. A man and a woman kneel at a bedside, crying for the porcelain doll connected to the sea-monster machina. An empty woman sits on the couch, waiting, ignoring the child's attempts to bring her back to reality.

Hear them:

as they refuse acceptance.

"I'm sorry, but without diagnosis, there is nothing we can do."

"I must tell you about your husband."

"Then find out what's wrong with her and fix it! I ain't payin' you to sit around and do nothin' while my little girl dies."

"Is he alive? Where is he?"

"Sir, if you don't calm down, we'll have to ask you to leave."

"He is dead."

"No."

"I am sorry."

"Get out."

"Wake up honey, Mommy's here. It's going to be okay. My poor little baby, Mommy will make it all better."

"Mommy, why you crying? Mommy?"

The world's salvation:

a mother's loss.

The red-haired woman stands in the middle a child's room. She turns on the nightlight and leaves. The shelf is full of stuffed animals staring at the empty bed, waiting.

Observe three strangers:

sharing a vial of pain.

Morning, and the wait continues. The red-haired man and the red-haired woman visit their desolate friend.

"Hello. We thought we should come over." The man speaks first, breaking the silence of their grief.

"Thank you," the empty widow says, forcing her tears down for the sake of her son.

"Your little friend is staying home today," the red-haired man says, looking down at the boy and forcing a tiny smile.

"Why?" The boy shatters the elaborate facade of courtesy with a single word.

"She has a bad cold and we left her with a babysitter." The red-haired woman chokes on the last word.

"Oh." The boy ran to his room and slams the door.

"I'm sorry about my son, but this has been difficult for both of us." She forces a polite smile that disappears before it appears.

"It's fine. This is on of those situations were courtesy is irrelevant." The man allows his voice to take on a frozen, self-important tone.

"Yes." They sit down. "Tell your daughter I hope she gets better soon."

The red woman sobs. Her husband places a protective arm around her, whispering lies of comfort.

"She's... in a coma. We didn't want to mention it with your child in the room," he explains for his wife.

"The doctors won't do a thing. All I can do is stand by while my baby dies!" She flings her bitter, tearful accusation across the polite room, shattering eggshell dams so poorly erected. The young widow sobs, and the man makes no effort to hide his tears.

Remember that day:

his father hurt him badly.

A young wife pulled off her son's shirt to get a better look at his bruises. His entire back was blue-black from having hit the wall.

"Nothing a little ice won't fix." She wrapped the ice-pack in a towel and held it against the worst of the bruises. "That better?"

He nodded, his tears turning to sniffles. "I hate him."

She sighed. She could never get her son to understand his father didn't mean any of the things he said or did.

"What are you going to do when Daddy gets home?"

"'Poligize." The battered boy curled up.

"Good. Now, I'm going to call the school and tell them you won't be coming in today."

He cried. He liked school. It got him away from home for seven hours.

"I'll tell them you have a stomach ache today and can't come in. Can you remember that?"

He nodded. He didn't understand why he had to lie about being hurt, but his mommy insisted. He hoped his father would leave and never ever come back.

Follow another:

as she searches for comfort.

A red woman headed to her lover's house, tears in her eyes. She was exhausted and disheveled from spending the entire night at the police station.

She rang the bell.

"Hello, gorgeous." A blond man with a killer smile greeted her.

"Shut up, I look terrible." She kissed him.

"See, the problem with that theory is it is impossible for you to look terrible, as compared to normal human beauty." His eyes twinkled. "What causes my lady such distress.?"

She threw herself on his bed. "My little girl is missing. The police have been searching all night. They told me to go home and get some sleep, but I don't feel like sleep." She smiled up at him, desperate mischief in her eyes as she accepted the comfort her husband could not give.

Another waits:

at the eye of the storm.

He stared into space, writing a book. A book where a little girl who can read minds grows into a woman who can reads mind. The little girl would be frightened, the woman assured, calm, strong. Neither would have many friends, neither would need any.

He closed his eyes and leaned back. And she would fall in love with a man with different powers, the power to talk to minds. But he can neither talk to her, nor can she read him. Each without the powers which have shaped the way they've lived their entire lives, they find that can never be together, despite their love.

A secret unfolds:

unknown to the living.

When the dreaming ghosts are certain no one is looking, they pick up where they left off. Without him. With another man, the one the child brought through.

Listen now:

as they talk.

"Ma'am, we have some unfortunate news."

"Sir? They found your daughter."

"What?"

"Where?"

"Your husband is missing."

"The mountain road. She's in pretty bad condition..."

"That's impossible."

"Whatdaya mean, pretty bad?! How bad is she?!"

"We're sorry, ma'am."

"She's unconscious. That's all we know now. Would you like to call your wife?"

"He can't be gone. He can't."

"Yes."

"We'd like you to come in and answer a few questions."

"You have reached Bob's Air Conditioning!"

"Shut up. You've reached the home of Brydi..."

"And Terran!"

" We're not here right now,"

"So leave a message after the scratch, buzz, and beep."

"Mommy? Mommy? Mommy?"

"Wake up! They've found her! She's in the emergency room at..."

"MOMMMMMMYYYYYY!"

A decade passes:

she begins again.

Once more she enters reality.

Once more the city falls.

The warrior and the boy leave on their journey, and the city breathes it's last.

Once more she is alone.

Once more she watches.

For the last time:

she says good-bye.

One

child for whom they waited.

Two

to build the bridge.

Three

of the dream.

Four

the forces of nature.

Five

the others.

Six

for protection.

Seven

for victory.

Eight

prayers a descendent made.

Nine

powers they have.

Ten

answered a summoner's call.

Eleven

steps to the grave.

Twelve

battles fought.

Thirteen

when they first kissed.

Fourteen

his first game.

Fifteen

he drifts away.

Sixteen

his dream comes true.

Seventeen

the age he dies.

Wishing hard:

she steps into the world.

BTW, everything is left to you to interpret. If you read this fic, review! Let me know what YOU think is going on.


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